Family Portrait
by SparklingLetters
Summary: About how one of Regina's most prized possessions came into being, and its presence in Neverland.


The night is dark and full of shadows. _Why is it never day on this wretched island anyway?_ She pushes aside a leafy branch and peers into the green-tinted darkness beneath the large gnarly tree. _This will do_. Looking over her shoulder once more, Regina makes sure there's no one nearby to see her, and slips through the branches. A familiar sense of relief overcomes her. For a moment at least, she's alone. She sits down and leans back against the tree trunk. The gnarled bark is hard and uncomfortable against her back, but she's barely aware of it.

Every night before sleep, ever since they set out for Neverland, Regina has looked for a secluded place to retreat to for a while, and have a quiet moment of recollection all to herself. She slides a hand under the left side of her jacket and rests it on her heart for a moment. It takes a little fumbling – the hidden inside pocket is small and tight. The paper is warm. That's a strange thing still – back home, she'd been used to clutching the cool wooden frame.

_My hands would shake_, she remembers, _every single time_. She'd sit in Henry's empty room, on his untouched bed. It'd look so forlorn there, gloomy at any time of the day, even when bright sunshine was bursting in, painting the room a warmer hue. It had felt this way ever since Henry had left the house to live with his other family. How many times had she been in his room since? How many minutes, how many hours had she spent sitting on his bed, absent-mindedly smoothing the sheets, gazing fixedly at one then another of his possessions, invariably ending up clinging to this framed photo of the two of them, fighting back tears - mostly without success?

Swallowing hard, Regina wraps her fingers firmly but carefully around the folded paper and pulls. It comes easily. She begins to unfold the creased picture. "Henry…" she whispers softly – so softly she can barely hear herself make a sound. There he is, smiling back at her; and her own reflection, too, hugging him from behind. A faint smile plays on her lips, and behind her closed eyes, a memory unfolds.

Regina remembers well the day the picture was taken; in fact, the memory is so vivid she feels immersed in the past, reliving it again, and again, and again. The colours, the sounds, and the smells are all coming back to her. She feels the gently stirring cool autumn breeze and the still warm brazen sun of the day long ago tickle her skin as she tries to steady her hands around the picture.

Henry was so happy on that fair September day. Regina had picked him up at school and announced that she had a surprise for him. Even though he had nagged her all the way there, she resisted the pleading and never told him where they were going. When she stopped at the park and got out of the car, he followed, perplexed. The park was a lot more crowded than usual, and there were benches set up in the middle of the park, facing a small stage. Interactive theatre, she'd said, and Henry glowed at her and ran to grab a costume and join the kids on the stage. Regina sat at the end of one of the benches and watched.

She remembers nothing about the play itself. It might have had some kind of plot, but more likely not – the children took over and played out whatever fantasies they had of defeating dragons and rescuing princesses. Whatever they did, Regina didn't care - she only had eyes for Henry. When he appeared on stage he was sporting a blue Superman suit and a red cloak – Regina recognised the superhero because he had been a favourite of Henry's at the time. Then something unexpected happened. Instead of choosing one of the many little princesses running about the stage waiting to be rescued, Henry hopped down from the stage, ran straight up to Regina, and insisted it was her and only her Superman would always rescue.

A lone tear runs down her cheek. Regina opens her eyes and runs a shaky finger over the picture, so gently as if it were really Henry she's stroking. How many more times would she stare down at the crumpled picture and get lost in all the memories it brought back, all the emotions it stirred? How many times would she hold on to it for dear life, clinging desperately to the hope that Henry will eventually be returned to her safely, and this time around she will not disappoint him?

A stray moonbeam casts a long shadow over the photo. Regina looks up and sees a small patch of star-strewn sky between the leaves. She brushes her tears away. _No_, she tells herself, _I must not despair. Henry will be fine. "_We're going to find you, Henry," she whispers. "We're going to take you home."_ And then I will do anything not to disappoint you again. I promise._


End file.
